Snowforest Taiga risky play

He’s on-guard, spikes prickling across his spine as everything settles into the dust. A lot of what he spewed out hasn’t escaped him before, and it is an odd feeling—lightening the load upon his shoulders. Yet regret seeps in moments later, because he doubts any could truly understand.
Most of all, he ends up halting in his tracks to turn towards the lookalike that’s haunted him ever since he’s gotten here. It’s one thing to have watched the only person important to him die with his every own eyes, but another to have been the cause of it.
His nostrils flare. Champagne eyes drinking Ghost in. The corner of them twitches at the response.
Four? He questions. What others. Why so many. So?